


Craving

by Sally_the_Sunflower



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Relationship, Sort Of, fantasies, tss advent calander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28169823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sally_the_Sunflower/pseuds/Sally_the_Sunflower
Summary: Thranduil and Bard have been exchanging...looks for quite some time now, culminating in an invitation from Bard for Thranduil to join them for a winter feast. Thranduil knows that this feast could finally be their chance to get some alone time, but it's still a week away! He'll just have to make do with a bit of imagination to tide him over in the meantime.
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Craving

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Tolkien Secret Santa NSFW Advent Calendar 2020. Day 19. Prompt: fantasies/masterbation

The silver? No. No. Too cold. He didn't want to look cold. Well, in as far as someone with his reputation could manage to not look cold. There wasn't really much he could do about the facial expression. 'Bubbly' wasn't exactly a word people tended to associate with Thranduil Oropherion. No, the outfit would have to soften the look for him somehow. How about red?! Reds appeared to be traditional for the people of Laketown at this time of year. Yes, something in red would help him look the part. The next question was, did he even own anything red? After an initial perusal of his dressing room, the answer appeared to be, that when it came to formal attire, no, no he did not own anything red.

He flumped down in the nearest seat in frustration, though he couldn't really say if the frustration was more at the lack of suitable clothing or at how much he was even bothered by such an 'issue'. He was not some flighty, frivolous fifty-year-old, desperate to impress his latest beau! Not that he felt far off it...

During their last few meetings, he had found himself and Bard exchanging _looks_. Looks that lingered. Looks that _wandered_... These were always during official talks, in rooms full of high-level officials talking about trade deals and travel restrictions. Of course, Thranduil cared deeply for his kingdom. He took his role as King with the utmost seriousness and solemnity. But those were some incredibly dry topics to try force yourself to focus on when you had someone who looked like Bard staring at you as if they thought you were also someone who looked like Bard and it took all of your thousands of years' worth of life experience to keep a straight face when your thoughts were... decidedly not...

This event, however, was different. From Thranduil's understanding, best behaviour was practically antithetical to what was expected! Bard was holding a feast as part of traditional Laketown winter celebrations. There would be no discussions or debates, just "good food, good wine and good company". Those had been Bard's own words at their last meeting and there had been a very promising emphasis on that bit about company. It had been accompanied by an even more promising flick of Bard's eyes, looking Thranduil up and down.

_This might be it_ , Thranduil thought to himself, _feasts are noisy, busy, drunken things. Would anyone really notice if the two Kings shared a dance or two? If their bodies were pressed a little closer than the dance strictly required? If they, perhaps, tired of dancing and maybe decided to retire early for the night? Would anyone notice if they...retired together?_

Thranduil closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. The thought of finally being alone with Bard filled him with a longing more intense than anything he had felt in an Age. He didn't know what it was about the Man that did it to him, but over the last year he had found his thoughts turning more and more to questions like _how would Bard's lips feel moving against his? How would that beard feel, tickling his cheek? What was hiding underneath those oversized clothes that he seemed to favour?_ Oh, that last one had been occupying more of his thoughts than Thranduil was willing to admit. It would just be so nice to slip them off...or to rip them off in a passioned frenzy!

Hmmmmmm...such a nice mental image, one that he hoped to bring into reality in the near future. Though, even the near future felt like it was too far away. Had he not waited patiently long enough already?! A hundred years may be a blink in the life of a Elf when it came to pettiness and revenge, but even an Elf would agree that a week was practically an eternity to be made to wait to get the ride off someone they wanted this badly! He needed something to tide him over in the meantime. A little...indulgence, maybe?

After a quick check that the doors to his chambers were locked, and a second check (for good measure), Thranduil settled himself back down on a couch, loosened the laces at the front of his leggings and let his imagination do as it would. Almost immediately his cock reacted to the images floating around his mind and before long it ached for the touch of the subject of his imaginings.

With eyes closed, he finally reached down, pretending that it was not his own thumb that rubbed pre-cum-slickened circles onto his cock's head, that it wasn't his own hand that gripped firmly around his length and began to stroke. He imagined how the weight of the other man would feel straddling him as he stroked. He imagined it, Bard in his lap, one hand on his cock, the other knotted into his hair as he claimed Thranduil's lips, devouring any whimpers or groans the Elf made. He imagined reaching out and freeing Bard's length. The Man's erection was just as heavy with desire as his own. The Bard of his mind brought their hips a little closer, close enough to take both their cocks in hand together. The thought alone almost undid him! Bard was warm and hard against him, their movements against one another slicked by pre-cum. Bard's hand began to pick up the pace. Their lips met in a clumsy, wet kiss as the two endeavoured to somehow get even closer than they already were. Thranduil slid his hands up Bard's thighs until they rested on his rear. He gave it a squeeze and savoured the groan it drew from the Man. The movement of Bard's hand became more erratic, no-longer composed enough to maintain a steady rhythm. Thranduil wasn't fairing much better. He didn't think he'd be able to last much longer. The two pressed their foreheads together as the chamber rang with the sounds of their pleasure. This was perfect. Thranduil wanted to stay in this moment forever and then...

...the image in his mind faded into bliss as a warm sticky wetness dribbled over his hand.

Thranduil opened his eyes. Bard was gone. He sighed

Having to wait a whole week for the real thing was going to be horrendous.


End file.
